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My eyes go wide as I try to take a deep breath and struggle under his body. I hate the “vitamins”; they don’t make me feel good. I lose track of time, hours, days even. It’s why I think I can’t remember anything, or at least not for very long.
I just want to remember. To remember where I came from, how I got here, and why he has me. They make me feel so funny. When I wake up from them, I feel like my body is dead weight.
He lets out a loud grunt as he shifts over me, removing his hand from my throat and gripping my cheeks, squeezing them hard. He throws my head to the side. I let out a scream from the pain of his hand squeezing my face and the weight of his giant body over me. I feel like I can’t breathe with him on top of me, and I struggle under him.
“Stop squirming or I will cut off your next breath,” he warns, and I freeze.
The truth is death would be welcome at this point. Death would be better than the world I exist in now. Death would be better than being touched and assaulted by this monster. And yet I stop moving instinctively, unable to do anything else.
A sharp poke in my neck makes a whimper slip from my lips. The fear of sleep causes tears to streak down the side of my face. But I don’t have a choice. Either I die by suffocating, or I fall into the darkness.
So, I welcome the darkness.
And the nightmares that will come from it.
Chapter One
RAELYN
The bodyon top of me smells rancid, like B.O. and smoke. His breath is a pungent mix of bad breath and alcohol. This person isn’t my captor.
Blinking, I try to get the fuzz out of my eyes. Whatever I was given hasn’t cleared my system enough to help me see straight. But I have enough sense to know I just need to lie here. Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion.
The weight on me makes it tough to breathe as his grunting starts to pick up. Silently, I pray that whoever this is finishes soon. The sweat from his face drips onto mine, and bile rises in my throat.
My stomach turns, and there’s a foaming in my mouth. Vomit fires from my mouth and all over myself and the body on top of me. Almost immediately, the weight above me is gone.
“What the fuck? You fucking cunt! Did you seriously puke the fuck all over me? Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I can hear him gagging and coughing. I blink a few times, and I can almost make him out. He looks short and round. I can see a bit of his stomach as he tries to put on his pants, still cursing at me for puking on him.
Maybe don’t fuck unconscious women who are here against their will.
“Fuck! David said you were going to be out for another few hours!” he screams at me.
David. Is that my captor’s name? David is a stupid fucking name. I roll onto my side as I start to feel my stomach turn again. More bile rises in my throat as I start to dry heave. My entire body lurches as it tries to bring up whatever else is in my stomach.
“Fuck this. You are definitely not worth this. Shit, now I need a goddamn shower.” The man throws the bedroom door open so hard it slams against the wall, and I hear the drywall crack and break. Just one more fracture added to the many in this room of horrors.
The minute I watch him leave, I expect my captor, apparently who is called David, to come in here and punish me for throwing up on his bestie or whoever the fuck that was. The thought sends me over the edge. Spittle flies from my mouth as I heave through it.
Except I can’t move. My muscles feel frozen, like they are being held down by weights. My eyes get heavy, and I feel myself start to be pulled under again. I fight with every ounce of strength I still have to keep my eyes open, but ultimately, I fail. And my body succumbs to the drugs still in my system once more.
I wake with a start. My eyes fly open as my nose is assaulted by the disgusting smell of vomit. I can’t see much. The room is dark, and I can only guess that it’s late at night now.
With a wince, I sit up. My hair is covered in puke and dried to the carpet. It takes me a moment to remember what happened, why I am stuck to the carpet? And then it hits me. I was being raped by some random guy. My eyes start to tear up from the horrid memories.
I look over at the door, which still stands open from when the asshole stormed out of here. I shake my head and slowly turn around, walking toward the bathroom. I’m sure my captor is just waiting for me to try to walk toward that open door. It will give him more reason to beat me mercilessly. But when he’s ready to use and beat me, he will expect me to be clean. My beating will only be worse if I’m not.
My body hurts with each step, but I am hoping a shower will help ease the pain. Between the drugs and the abuse, I’m in a constant state of agony and uncertainty.
I look forward to showers, though; it’s like a cleansing. I can rid myself of the evil before it creeps on my skin again. The water here is never hot, only warm at best. But it beats it being ice cold.
I turn the shower on and step under the shitty shower head. I don’t wait for it to warm up; I just need this shit off me. As the water barely sprays out of the nozzle, I run my hands through my hair to try to get it wet, reaching over and grabbing my shampoo and lathering the hell out of my hair. The fruity smell starts to overtake the smell of the puke.
The water warms enough that I stop shivering as I wash my hair. I tip my head back and let the flow of the water rinse the soap off. My body is still tired and weak, but I need this shower badly.
My brain is still fuzzy—it always is. Everything is a haze, like it’s in my grasp but then slips away. I hate this.
When the water is no longer full of suds, I reach over and grab the cheap soap my captor got me and start to scrub. The clean smell doesn’t help to take away the feeling of that body ontop of me. Grimacing, I scrub my face where his sweat dripped down onto me. My stomach where his rubbed against me. I wish I could skin myself, remove the vile feelings. But all I can do is scrub until it hurts.